


Stables and Stability

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (maybe a bit of plot but not proper plot), Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Half-Sibling Incest, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slut Shaming, Spitroasting, humor and smut, is this smut or a sitcom, tiniest rape reference bc jon is kinda paranoid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 01:45:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11151594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: “It's so fucking pointless, isn't it? Here we are, such jealous little shits, squabbling like a couple of alleycats, begging for any scrap of his attention we can get... but we both know neither of us has a chance. The precious little Lord Stark isn't going to debase himself to commit sodomy.”“Or incest.”“Or that.”Jon and Theon fight over Robb, even though they both know they don't have a chance with him.Luckily, they're both wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is embarrassing. I am embarrassed. Shh, just enjoy your porn.

They're meant to be out riding, although they probably only have about twenty minutes left to do so before the sun goes down. Jon huffs in irritation. It was Robb's idea, that's the thing, saying his lord father was mediating a disagreement between two particularly recalcitrant peasants and his lady mother was in the middle of a particularly dastardly tapestry, so they could get away with sneaking out for a quick ride before dinner. Jon and Theon both agreed immediately, as always, even if they'd rather both be out with Robb alone. Then Robb went to go wrangle three horses from the stablehands, leaving them with a stern look silently instructing that they not kill each other while he was gone.

That was approximately forty minutes ago now.

“Seriously, where the fuck is he?” asks Theon, not for the first time. Jon shrugs and sighs.

“How would I know?”

“He's your bloody brother,” Theon grumbles, and Jon tries to hide his flinch. _Of course he'd remind me of that._ “Fuck. He's probably forgotten all about us, you know, got busy talking to the stablehands and is now teaching their little sisters how to ride or something. That sounds like him.”

Jon scowls. Theon has a point. “It's probably Father,” he says. “Suddenly came up with some important duty Robb needs to fulfil right now, some lesson for the heir.”

“Oh don't sulk, Snow,” Theon says to his pout. “Your lord father's always dragging you along when he wants to teach Robb something important. Don't bloody know why, it's not like you're going to use it for anything.”

Jon had twitches as he represses the urge to punch Greyjoy right in his stupid face, only managing it because he realises how disappointed Robb will be if he ever actually does come back and finds they've gotten into yet another fight. Still, he can't quite keep his tongue from striking the same way. “Oh, like you would?”

“Well, yeah, Snow,” says Theon, grinning and leaning back arrogantly. “I'm going to be Lord of the Iron Islands one day, while you're going to go freeze your poor little bastard balls off on the wall.”

Jon grits his teeth and balls his fist. _Don't punch him, Robb'll be upset; don't punch him, Robb'll be upset; don't punch him, Robb'll be upset..._ “Yeah, I know,” he says. “And yet Lord Stark cares a lot more about teaching me than he does you. I wonder why that is?”

Theon's grin doesn't fall, but Jon sees genuine hurt flicker in his eyes. “Fuck you, Snow,” he says, and looks away. Guilt settles in Jon's breast. As much of a prick as Theon is, that might have been pushing a bit far. Still, he can't quite bring himself to apologise.

After a long, awkward moment of silence, Theon sighs. “Seriously, I was going to go see Ros before he came along,” he says, and Jon blinks a second, trying to remember what they were talking about before they started bickering. “If Robb talks me out of getting my end away and then doesn't even have the decency to bloody show up, he'll hear about it, mark my words.”

“I see,” Jon says dryly, and Theon smirks.

“You don't understand, do you Snow? 'Course not, you didn't want her when she was bloody handed to you.” Jon scowls. Greyjoy doesn't know a single fucking thing about what happened there, why Jon couldn't go through with it, and he should keep his fat mouth shut before Jon does something he'll regret. “Guess she's just not your type, huh?”

Jon has been stirred to anger, he's angry enough he doesn't listen to the more reasonable part of his brain that's currently whispering old adages about glass gardens. “Oh, like she's your type then?” he asks, and Theon makes a bemused noise. “That would explain a lot. Red hair, curls, and a good strong name, short, sturdy, bit of a growl to it and a low vowel, maybe starting with the right two letters–”

“Whatever you're implying, Snow–”

“I'm not implying a thing,” Jon snaps, finally sick of Theon's shit. “Yeah, you'll get your kicks with Ros, but the second the real thing comes calling you'll forget all about her. So you can stick your dick in as many whores as you like Theon, but don't take it out on me just because you can't bring yourself to admit that _you want him_.”

Theon's eyes narrow, and Jon expects him to deny it, to swear and snarl and punch him in the face. What he doesn't expect Theon to do is to say the one thing Jon really should have known he would:

“So do you.”

Jon lunges for him on instinct, but Greyjoy is quick and strong and grabs his wrist, holds him there. For a second Jon just stares at him and scowls, then Theon laughs. “Oh come on Snow, you thought no-one would ever notice? I'm not surprised. Bloody greenlanders; the Targaryens were a bad influence on the lot of you. You're as obvious as I am.”

He huffs and settles back down; Theon's right, of course he's bloody right, and Jon can only hope Robb himself hasn't noticed. “You won't tell him?” he mumbles anxiously.

Theon snorts. “As if he'd believe me; he'd just think I was jealous and trying to tear you two apart. And he'd probably be right.” A pause. “His lady mother might, but everyone knows she'd take any excuse to get rid of you, so nobody'd believe her and we'd end up back at square one. So don't worry, Snow, your secret's safe.”

Jon sighs, burying his head in his hands. “I'm sorry,” he says.

“Don't know what you're apologising to me for,” Theon says. “I'm hardly any better. Don't think Robb would be too happy if he knew all the dirty things that go through my head either.”

“You're not his brother,” Jon says.

Theon shrugs. “He thinks of me as a brother.” Then he sighs. “It's so fucking pointless, isn't it? Here we are, such jealous little shits, squabbling like a couple of alleycats, begging for any scrap of his attention we can get... but we both know neither of us has a chance. The precious little Lord Stark isn't going to debase himself to commit sodomy.”

“Or incest.”

“Or that.” Another pause, and then Jon looks up at Theon, staring. And they both break into laughter. Theon's right, it _is_ pointless. Fighting over a prize neither of them will ever win. Robb's going to marry some highborn maid and have her pump a dozen babes out for him and he'll be happy and never know that he's broken their hearts. And Jon and Theon probably aren't going to stop fighting over him, but still, it's something of a bonding experience, realising it's just as miserably futile for Theon as it is for him.

After the silence, Theon sighs again. “Seriously, where the fuck _is_ he?” he asks. “He's going to be late for dinner at this rate.”

Jon frowns and looks around. “It's getting dark,” he announces, which admittedly is kind of obvious. “We should go check the stables, see if he's there, and if not look around for him. His horse could have fallen, he could be hurt.”

“What, do you think he'd get injured then?” Theon asks. “I would have thought his bones are too perfect to be damaged by a mere fall; no, he'll bounce right back to his feet and heal the horse with nothing but his touch.”

Jon rolls his eyes. “Come on, Greyjoy. One of us has got to be his knight in shining armour.”

* * *

There aren't any torches lit in the stables when they get there, so at first Jon assumes Robb can't be there, he'd have noticed how dark it's getting. He's probably just gone inside for dinner. “He'd not here, we should get back,” he tells Theon, and he's about to turn around when Greyjoy squeezes his shoulder.

“Hang on a second.” Jon frowns, wondering what the hell he wants now. But then he goes quiet, and in the silence, Jon starts to hear an odd sort of sound – squelching? But it's not rained, they'd have noticed – and he and Theon share a confused look before they silently agree to get closer, to figure out what's going on.

They creep up to the window like little boys, peering over the ledge while not wanting to be seen, and it's so dark in there it's hard to make much out, but the sound gets louder, squelching accompanied by heavy breathing and muffled moans and hissed curses and skin slapping together. Jon turns bright red as he realises what's happening, and Theon starts to laugh in his ear.

“Oh, I see,” he says. “Well no wonder Robb fucked right off if he saw this; poor boy probably thought he was going to hell just for looking, had to go pray immediately.”

“Shh!” Jon hushes him, not wanting to be caught, even though it sounds like everyone in the stables is much too preoccupied to notice them. Robb's not here, he can't be here, and whoever's fucking in there it's none of their business, so why hasn't he moved?

Then comes a gust of wind with suspiciously convenient timing, knocking a branch out of the way and letting the last rays of sunlight shine through the window. And Jon can _see_. Three men, locked in a filthy embrace over a bale of hay. A couple of the stablehands, Marren and Jack, men Jon's exchanged pleasantries with but doesn't really know, stand at either end; Marren with his shirt off, breeches round his ankles and head thrown back in pleasure as he fucks into the hole in front of him, and Jack with only his prick out, pulling and tugging at a head of hair as he makes some boy swallow his prick.

And the boy between them, breeches pulled down just enough to bare his arse to be fucked, moaning as he's used from both ends. Jon sees the flash of red hair in the light and a silver clasp holding the boy's jerkin together – Robb. It's _Robb_.

“...Oh,” says Theon.

Jon can't even manage that much, can only stand there gawping, utterly unable to comprehend the scene in front of him. Not until Jack gives a particularly vicious thrust down Robb's throat, making him gag violently. Then Jon snaps out of it.

“We have to help him.”

“Wait, hang on – Snow–” but Jon isn't listening, these men are hurting Robb, these men are _raping_ Robb, they have to stop them, what sort of brother would he be if be if he didn't stop them, and Theon is trying to hold him back but Jon can't let him, he has to get in there– “Jon! I'm not sure he's as eager to be rescued as you are to rescue him!”

Jon blinks in confusion, not following, as Theon's eyes cast over his shoulder through the window, and Jon quickly turns to look the same way. As if on cue, Jack, seemingly to caught up in the moment to notice the commotion outside, pulls Robb off his prick with a lewd pop. “Fuck, you're good at that, m'lord, for a beginner. If you're not careful I'm gonna come right down your throat.”

Robb doesn't reply as such, but he does let out a long, low moan as he lets his mouth hang open as he cranes his neck to try and take Jack's cock back in, drooling all over his chin, and Jack chuckles as he holds himself just out of reach. “You'd like that, would you? You're going to swallow my seed like a good slut?” Robb moans again, louder this time. “You'd like it if Marren here came in your arse too?”

“Yes,” Robb gasps, and Marren, considerably quieter than his friend, groans as he digs his fingers into Robb's hips, pulling him up and onto his cock harder, faster, deeper, just fucking _pounding_ him, until Robb starts to yelp and wail with pleasure, “yes, yes, fuck me, yes, yes, yes–!”

“Shh, shh, here you go,” says Jack, sliding his cock back between Robb's lips just to shut him up. “Good little boy, good lordling slut, fuck.” And when Robb moans, he sounds like he's never been so pleased in his life.

Jon is hard as a rock. “...Oh,” he says.

Theon chuckles in his ear again. “Fuck, that man's right you know,” he smirks. “What a total slut.”

Jon almost bristles in Robb's defense, pointing out Theon hardly has room to talk, having fucked damn near every woman in Winter Town, but as he watches Robb moaning like a whore as he takes it in both holes like one too, he does appreciate the point. _It should be me fucking him like that,_ he thinks bitterly, although given he's only got the one cock, he's not sure how that would work. Not until he looks at Theon, staring at Robb entranced, his eyes black with lust (although admittedly, it is dark), as hard as Jon is. _It should be us fucking him like that, at least._

“Come on,” he says, grabbing Theon's arm. “Let's get out of here. I don't want him to catch us watching.”

Theon's mouth hangs open, as if he's about to argue, but then he thinks it over, nods and shrugs. He steals one last glance at Robb, and Jon can't resist doing the same–

“Dirty whore,” grunts Marren as he buries himself in Robb, and Robb whines around Jack's cock as he reaches back with one hand, trying to spread his arse open wider...

–And then they start to walk away, to head back inside for dinner, painfully aroused and more than a little confused.


	2. Chapter 2

“We won't mention it,” says Jon once they mutually silently agree to retreat to his rooms in the hour before dinner. “What Robb gets up to, that's – none of our business. We'll act like we didn't see anything.”

Theon scoffs, relaxing onto Jon's too-narrow bed, his prick jutting forth between his legs lewdly, making Jon struggle not to stare. “Sure,” he says.

Jon is on edge, his hardness stubbornly refusing to subside and his blood pumping with lust and bitter jealousy, and it doesn't take much to make him snap. “Okay, what does that mean?”

Theon shrugs. “Come on, you're actually going to pretend this changes nothing? That you don't care even the slightest bit that the boy too perfect to touch is out there whoring himself to the household?” Jon scowls and looks away. _It'd hurt him if I brought it up._ Jon really doesn't know what could possibly be going through Robb's head right now, but he doubts he'd be pleased with himself. This just seems like something Robb would never do, and Robb probably knows that. “Alright, fine, have it your way Snow. Still, what are you going to do about that then?”

He gestures vaguely at Jon's crotch, and Jon blushes. “Fuck off, Greyjoy,” he says, inadequately concealing the fact that Theon has a point.

Theon knows he has a point, and laughs. “He might just notice if you're harder than the cocks he'd just had inside him over supper, and you can't even look him in the eye. Not much you can do about the latter, but you might want to take care of your prick while you have time. Long as you know how.”

“I _know how_ ,” Jon snaps, and Theon chuckles in that way that makes Jon want to punch him again. “And if there wasn't some mouthy fucker in my room, on my bed for no reason, maybe I could do just that.”

Theon only laughs louder at that. “Maybe, Snow. Or maybe...” he smirks again, eyes darkening and narrowing, and starts to push himself up on his elbows. “Maybe you could do with a little help, yeah? Maybe we both could. You know, if sweet Robb's busy.”

Jon blinks, pacing a little closer toward him. “Wait, what are you–?”

But before he can figure out what Theon's blathering about this time, they're interrupted by a knock on the door. They both stop, stare at it, and then at each other, silently asking who that could be and neither of them knowing the answer. “Hey, Jon, are you in there? Can I come in?” comes a voice. Robb's voice. “Are you decent?”

_Decent. Funny to hear him say that._ “Yeah, Robb, you can come in,” he says automatically, and Theon raises an eyebrow, nodding toward Jon's still obscenely hard prick, but Jon can't bring himself to care. Robb will probably just think he caught them in the middle of something.

Robb swings open the door and Jon turns to look at him, a red flush upon his cheeks, hair mussed and wet with sweat, breathing hard and not quite walking straight. Jon's 'don't say anything' plan falls apart. “Oh. Theon. Hello,” he says, surprised to see him here. “Well that makes things easier. I wanted to apologise; I really meant for us to all go riding, but uh, I got talking to the stablehands and–”

“Talking,” Jon says flatly, knowing very well how bitter and jealous he sounds.

Robb blushes and looks down to the floor. “Yeah, talking,” he mumbles, not in the least convincing. Theon just snickers. “Look, I'm sorry–”

“Because I would have thought your mouth would be a bit full to talk,” Jon carries on, and Robb's eyes snap back up again. “Or was it more them talking to you? From what I heard, they told you some very interesting things.”

“Easy, Snow,” Theon warns him, but Jon is no mood to pay attention right now.

Robb starts to stammer. “I – wh-what are you–?”

“We _saw you_ , Robb.”

That stops him dead, makes him just stare at Jon for a long, painful moment. Jon can almost take pleasure in for once having caught the little lord off-guard. But then it starts to sink in for Robb, and Jon can see the dread and horror clouding over his face. He steps back and slowly collapses onto Jon's desk, burying his head in his heads. That makes Jon soften, the anger in his veins replaced by blinding guilt. _Oh, well done Snow,_ he tells himself. _You're just jealous, and now you've made him feel even more shameful and confused than he must have done already, you stupid, petty, perverted bastard._

“Please don't tell anyone,” Robb mutters, sounding like he's on the edge of tears, and it makes Jon's heart hurt.

“Never. I wouldn't do that to you, Robb.”

“Who'd believe us, anyway?” Theon adds, but Jon ignores him, rushing over to Robb's side to try and make this right somehow.

“Robb – I'm sorry, I didn't mean–”

“No, it's fine,” says Robb, sniffing and pulling his head back up. He lets out a bitter laugh. “I mean, you're right aren't you?” That makes Jon's heart hurt more, makes him want to say _no, Robb, I didn't mean to say those things, I'm sorry,_ but before he can Robb continues. “I swear I didn't mean for it to happen. I meant to just get the horses, I didn't really think anyone would be there. But they were there, and they were... you know...”

Robb blushes and Theon snorts. “Fucking,” he says, and Jon looks up at him. He smirks and raises an eyebrow. “What Stark, you can take two cocks at a time but you can't bring yourself to curse?”

Robb blushes deeper and Jon glares. “Theon.” He knows he's being a hypocrite, but still, Robb is upset and Jon doesn't want Theon to worsen that.

“I knew I should've just left. But I – I couldn't make myself look away. The things they were doing... the things they were saying... I didn't really know... I wanted...” Robb starts to trail off.

“So they caught you staring,” Theon says.

“Yeah,” Robb nods, relieved to be given an excuse to gloss over the details. “I was – embarrassed, I thought they'd shout at me, I told them I didn't mean to, how sorry I was – but one of them, he could tell, how hard I was, I mean it wasn't subtle, I was practically fucking drooling, and he asked – i-if I wanted to join in.”

“And you did,” says Jon.

“I knew I shouldn't,” Robb says. “I knew it was wrong, if Father found out, if Mother did, if I got caught – and I knew you two were still waiting for me, I didn't want to let you down – but I, I couldn't make myself say no. I thought, when else would I get the opportunity again, to be with a man? To be with _men_.” He shudders at the memory, and Jon's want and jealousy flicker back to life.

_What that your first time?_ he wants to ask. Robb giving himself up two nigh-strangers, too desperate not to take up the first offer he got. _It should have been me. It should have been us._ But Jon bites the words back.

“So, you like men then?” Theon asks cheerfully, which is a spectacularly stupid thing to ask when you've just caught someone fucking two stablehands at the same time, even for Theon.

Hesitantly, Robb nods. Then he suddenly turns to look them both in the eye. “Do you think I'm disgusting?” he asks.

“Robb, of course not,” Jon says, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. _Whatever you've done, they're not your brothers. I've no room to judge._

“I don't consider myself fit to go about judging the way anyone else fucks, with half the things I've done,” Theon shrugs. “You might be a bit of a slut, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Those stablehands seemed quite happy with you.”

“i didn't think it'd go that far,” says Robb, and Jon has to raise an eyebrow. _You hoped it would though, didn't you?_ “I thought... I'd be to the sidelines a little, helping out, watching mostly. I didn't think they'd want me to... but it was so _good_ what they did, and I wanted it, I wanted all of it, I–” and Robb cuts himself off, blushing again, while Jon wonders if his brother is ever going to notice how achingly hard he is.

“I'm not surprised,” chuckles Theon. Robb looks puzzled. “What stablehand's going to pass up the chance to fuck the Heir to Winterfell? Especially when he's as pretty as you,” Theon fucking leers at him, and Jon's stomach twists and anger and dread. _Oh. He thinks he has a chance now._ Of course he does; if Robb does like cock after all, and he's nowhere near as discerning about it as they thought, what's stopping him? It's not like he's Robb's brother or anything. Prick. He could have at least waited until Jon had left the room.

Robb brushes that aside with a chuckle, assuming Theon's just kidding, and lets out a sigh. “So, is that it then?” he asks. “You know all my dirty secrets?”

“Yeah,” Jon whispers, resigned and in desperate need of a wank, but Theon can't leave it there. He smirks.

“Not quite, Stark,” he says, slowly pushing himself up and off Jon's bed. “Just one question left.” He starts to prowl forward like a panther, eyes never leaving Robb's face, and Robb stares gormlessly at him in turn, meaning neither of them notices Jon's suspicious look. _The fuck are you doing now, Greyjoy?_ “And that's if you wanted two cocks so bad...” gently, he swipes his thumb across Robb's bottom lip, red and swollen, “...why didn't you just ask?”

Robb jumps and Jon lets out a panicked noise, turning to glare. “ _Theon_ ,” he hisses, because Theon _promised_ , and it's not the same, he and Robb are still brothers and he can't know–

But Theon just laughs at him. “What Snow, you going to tell him you've a dagger down your pants?” And then Robb finally looks down, seeing how hard Jon is and his eyes go wide, and Jon blushes, but Theon quickly tilts his head back up to look him in the eye. “Robb. We want you. Both of us. More than those bloody stablehands ever could.” He slides his thumb between Robb's lips, and Jon's eyes go wide as Robb immediately, instinctively starts to bob his head. “That's it Robb, show me what a good cocksucker you are. Fuck, if you only knew the things I've wanted to do you. Are those the same things you've wanted done to you? Or are you dirtier than I could ever be?”

Robb lets go of Theon's thumb with an obscene pop, but not to answer the question. “Jon,” he says, and Jon almost faints with terror. Robb turns and stares at him, squirming in his spot and eyeing Jon's prick. “I – do you–?”

“No, no, of course not,” Jon rushes out in a panic, knowing they won't believe a word of it, “I – your story, that got me hard, but we, we can't, we're brothers–“

But then Robb's hand is on him, squeezing his prick firmly through his breeches, and Jon yelps, all thought of right and wrong fleeing his mind. Theon laughs again, “I _want you_ , Jon,” murmurs Robb, his hand on Jon's cock needy and insistent, and Theon lets out an irritated noise. “I want both of you. I always have. But I thought, if you knew, you'd hate me, you'd be disgusted, and – those men, one of them was mouthy and smug, one of them was quiet and rough, and – I thought of you, but–”

“Shut up,” says Theon, shoving three fingers into Robb's mouth, and Robb gags as Theon starts to work them down his throat. “That mouth of yours wasn't meant for talking.” Robb moans at that, sucking Theon's fingers like a shameless whore, and Theon chuckles. “You want it right now, don't you? Four cocks in as many hours?”

_Less than that, surely._ It can't have been more than two hours since Robb first went to get the horses. Jon almost says that aloud, but then he hesitates. Are they being too rough, too cruel? Robb still seems to be enjoying it, but still, exactly how far can they push? As if reading his mind, Theon carries on. “Oh, you know what a whore you are, don't you? Love being treated like one. Love being talked to like one. You like being a dirty slut, don't you? Like getting fucked in the stables by boys whose names you don't even know?”

Robb pulls away with a whine, both aroused and indignant. “I knew their names,” he insists. “We'd spoken before. Jack and Martyn–”

“Marren,” Jon corrects him.

Theon laughs as Robb flushes. “Don't worry, Stark, you don't have to pretend anymore. You're a whore. Wouldn't it be nice to admit it?”

Robb bites his lip, then nods. “I'm a whore,” he says, and suddenly his whole body shifts as if some great weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “Oh, I'm a fucking whore, fuck me, please, now, I want cock, I want – ah!”

He shuts up when Jon growls and pulls him roughly by the hair. “Bed. Now.”

Robb stumbles to his feet as Jon pulls him along, tossing him face-first onto the bed, years of suppressed longing finally finding release on a body that seems willing to let him do anything he likes with it. Robb is up on all fours quickly, sweaty fingers fumbling with his breeches, ready to present himself for them. But then Jon hears a cough and finds Theon by his side, and that brings him back to reality. Right, positions. How are they going to do this?

“You can have his arse,” Theon says, and Jon blinks in surprise.

“You sure?” Jon would have thought Theon would insist on being the one to fuck him properly; he's greedy like that. At best, he thought they would fight for it.

Theon shrugs. “Well I've been shoving my fingers down his throat, feels mean if I don't give him the real thing. 'Sides, not sure I fancy getting my cock covered in another man's come. I'll have my turn when he's clean.”

Robb moans at that, and what a humiliating thing that is to say about anyone, but Jon's starting to get the impression that doesn't bother Robb. Jon's jealous fury flickers back to life when he remembers Robb is already used, and he drops to his knees behind Robb on the bed, yanking Robb's breeches down to his knees and revealing his bare arse, covered with finger-shaped bruises, and his loose, red, leaking hole, dripping another man's come onto Jon's bed. Jon can't tell what's worse, the jealousy or the lust.

“Come on lordling, open your mouth, there's a good whore,” says Theon, sliding into position in front of Robb, his hard prick already out and in his hand. He spreads his legs shamelessly in front of Robb, and Robb lets out a guttural moan before he leans forward to wrap his lips around Theon, Theon's eyes sliding shut in bliss as he does so. “That's it, Robb, good boy...” he whispers, hands quickly tangling in his red hair to guide him forward, make him swallow deeper, and Robb lets out a pleased hum.

For a moment Jon stares, entranced by the look of unrestrained pleasure on Theon's face, the shape of Robb's willing flesh lying between them, but then he notices the way Robb is starting to arch his back and wriggle his arse, impatient to be used from the other end. Jon scowls and spits straight onto Robb's hole, making him gasp in shock, with earns a groan from Theon. “Whore,” Jon snarls, slapping Robb's arse hard, which makes him whine and rock back towards Jon. That spit is all the lubrication Robb gets before Jon shoves two fingers deep inside him, crooking them hard and fast as Marren's seed drips around them. “You're still fucking wet with it,” Jon hisses as Robb groans again, pushing himself back onto the fingers shamelessly. “It should have been us. We should have had you first. We've wanted you for so long–”

Robb makes a noise and pulls off Theon to speak. “I didn't know, Jon,” he says. “If I had–”

“Hey, less talking, more sucking,” says Theon, quickly returning Robb to his previous position, pushing him down until he gags. Over his back, however, he gives Jon a look, and Jon is abashed. He's right, this isn't about his petty jealousy. It's not Robb's fault, and they have him now, don't they? Is Jon really going to be too busy being bitter over not being first to enjoy it?

Instead he shoves a third finger into Robb hard, listening to him wail as he clenches around it. It's a good thing Theon has his cock so deep in Robb's throat, else all of Winterfell would hear him moaning. Jon fucks Robb with his fingers brutally, the other hand tearing at his breeches frantically to get his aching cock out, and Theon laughs at him. “Go on Snow, stop teasing him. Poor whore's desperate for a cock up his arse. Desperate for his bastard brother's cock up his arse. Shameless slut.”

Robb whines and Jon scowls. “Shut up, Theon,” he says, but he does as he's told, yanking his fingers out of Robb and they come out wet and come-stained. He frowns at them, and then gets an idea. With his spare hand he takes a hold of Robb's hair, pulling him off Theon with a pop, and Theon whines but Jon ignores him. “Suck,” he says, shoving his come-covered fingers into Robb's mouth, and Robb moans again. “I thought you'd like that. Clean it up, Stark, there you go. You like other men's come so much? Then fucking taste it, taste what's deep in your arse, go on.”

Robb sucks his fingers like a cat lapping up cream, but it doesn't take long before Theon gets impatient and steals Robb back. “If you want come, I know where you can get just plenty,” he says, thrusting back down Robb's throat and fucking his face absolutely _brutally_ , making Robb hack and wheeze around the length, and it's enough to make Jon want to remind him that even if Robb _is_ a slut at heart, he's still pretty new at this, but before he can Jon realises he needs to be inside Robb, _now_.

And so he thrusts straight in, and gasps as he feels that wet hot hole close around him. _Oh gods._ Even if Robb's freshly fucked, he's all but a virgin otherwise, and he feels so _tight_. It's enough to make Jon want to thank Marren, for without him this might be too painful to bear, and Jon hates the thought of denying Robb this. As is, it's just on the right side of the divide between ecstasy and agony, and Jon swears he can see stars. He doesn't start to move until he feels Robb squirming beneath him, pushing himself back for more, and Jon groans as he buries his length all the way in.

“Oh, go on Snow,” says Theon, gasping as he fucks into Robb's mouth. “Go a little faster, before he falls asleep on your dick.”

Jon glares, even as he does start to speed up. “Before he passes out on yours?” he asks. Robb groans and gags beneath them. “You need to slow down. I don't want him being sick on my bed.”

Theon grins. “But he likes it,” he says, as if that's an impenetrable argument, which it probably is; Jon would let him do anything if he thought it was getting Robb off. “Don't you, slut?” And then Theon pulls Robb off, leaving him gasping and coughing wetly, a mix of drool and precome dripping from his lips.

Jon grunts and drives his cock harder into Robb, earning yelps as the little lord still struggles to catch his breath. “I – I like it–” he chokes out, and Theon laughs in victory, “–but I need to breathe.”

Jon huffs with amusement, and Theon pouts, and really neither of them knows who won that argument. Then Theon suddenly grins, like he's had a much better idea. “Alright Stark, if you can't take it all,” he says, wrapping his fist around his spit-slick cock, “you know what I'll do instead? I'll come all over your pretty face.” Robb whines, and then all of a sudden he's thrusting back fast, desperate, frantically trying to pleasure himself on Jon's cock at the very thought of it, and Jon has to dig his nails into Robb's sides to thrust in harder, faster, give it to him as hard and as deep as he needs. “Your stablehands didn't do that for you, did they? Didn't make you feel like a proper whore with a face full of come? Would you love it if I used you like a rag to wipe away my seed?”

“Yes, yes, come on me, Theon, please, come on me–” Robb is babbling now and Jon has to moan, fucking him at a punishing pace, as hard as Theon was fucking his face if not harder, and he almost worries but then Robb starts to moan, “oh gods, Jon, harder, fuck me, fuck me harder, break me, wreck me, make me never want another cock again–” and Jon tries, really he tries, but the whining doesn't stop no matter how he plows Robb's arse, and he starts to suspect he just can't give it to Robb as hard as he wants, so to make it up for him Jon reaches underneath and takes ahold of his cock, rock hard and dripping wet, stroking him hard and fast to match how he fucks his arse, and Robb almost _screams_ –

“Shh baby, it's alright,” says Theon, taking hold of Robb's hair with one hand to push his cock back between his lips, before all of Winterfell really does hear him. But Theon doesn't go in very far this time, only thrusting the head back and forth over Robb's lips, his spare hand stroking himself, even as Robb groans and tries to open his mouth wider. “Sorry Robb, I know you want more, but only when you can take it. You're going to have to practice.”

Robb lets out a choked moan that suddenly turns into a _wail_ , he stops and shakes all over, and Jon doesn't understand at first until he feels Robb clench _so tight_ , painfully tight, and wetness splashing all over his hand, and Jon gasps at the feel of Robb coming, coming on the end of his cock, and he's so tight and hot and _good_ that Jon can't stand it, it's barely a second later that he whines in need as he starts to spill, his seed filling up Robb's arse and mixing in with whatshisname's, and Jon is so caught by the pleasure burning through him he barely notices Theon, Theon's grin, and suddenly he's close, closer than he was before, and he's saying “Come here, Snow.”

Jon finds himself pulled over Robb's back, Theon's hand on his neck and Theon is kissing him, hard and rough and slipping his tongue into Jon's mouth, and Jon doesn't understand but he's kissing back, he can't help but kiss back while beneath them Robb shifts and whines. Theon pulls away with a line of spit snapping between their mouths, luckily too busy to notice how Jon pouts instinctively. “Here you go, Stark,” he mutters, slipping out of Robb's mouth entirely to take his cock in hand, biting his lip as he strokes a few more times before he releases, and Jon looks down to see Robb gasp and throw his head back, getting a face full of thick, white, hot come.

He looks like a complete whore now, Theon's seed soaking his face, Jack's seed probably swallowed in his stomach, Jon's seed filling his arse and Marren's seed fucked out of it. Jon can't help but admire him, how beautiful he is, how relaxed, having given into every single one of his filthiest instincts. Jon has always loved Robb the perfect little lord, but Robb the depraved, debased slut is something new and exciting and mayhaps dangerous. For a moment, Jon wonders what it must feel like, being the one absolutely used like that, what it is Robb likes so much, if anyone else would like it as much as he does. Just for a moment. Then he feels his lips still stinging with the brutality of Theon's kiss, and he looks up to catch his eye where he leans back against the headboard, wearing that same filthy smirk. Jon wonders if Theon wonders the same thing.

Jon is reluctant to leave Robb's tight warm heat, still clutching hard around his cock, but he doesn't think Robb will put up with him staying there forever so gradually he eases his way out. Robb lets out a soft whine as he does so, and then collapses face-first into Jon's blankets. He must be getting Theon's come on them, but Jon can't bring himself to mind. Instead, he watches as his own come slowly drips out of Robb's red and sloppy hole, tracing over the faint marks Marren's left. “Seven hells,” Jon mutters.

Robb doesn't reply, and after awhile that makes Jon start to worry. Did they go too far? Has he passed out? “Robb? Are you alright?”

A pause, and then Robb groans, pushing his head back up. “I'm fine,” he says, still breathing a little fast. “I'm good.” Jon frowns, not sure he believes him, and then Robb chuckles. “I'm... exhausted.”

Theon snorts. “I'm not surprised,” he says, and Jon turns to scowl at him. Theon ignores it. “Have to hand it to you Stark, you don't do anything half-way. You go right from a blushing virgin to fucking four men a day.”

Robb blushes. “I mean I'm not planning on doing that every day,” he says, sounding more like himself now. “That just sort of... happened.”

“So we're not going to have to share you with Mack and Jarren or whoever?” asks Theon, and Robb shakes his head.

“I think – I think that was just a one-time offer, anyway,” he says.

“Good,” says Jon before he stops to think about it, and Theon laughs at him.

“Jealous, Snow?”

Jon narrows his eyes. “As if you're not?”

Robb groans and rolls on his back, looking up into Jon's eyes. He smiles softly. “I would have wanted you to be first,” he says. “Both of you. I just didn't know...”

Jon sighs. “I know.” And then he leans down and kisses Robb, softly, reassuring him that he's not mad. It all worked out in the end, didn't it?

“Can't believe you didn't know though,” says Theon as soon as they break apart, at which Robb tilts his head up, puzzled. “The way we used to fight. Didn't you realise we were fighting over you?”

“No?” says Robb, and then Jon and Theon both have to laugh. He pouts. “Alright, but I can't believe _you_ didn't know. I was always terrified it was obvious, the way I was drooling after your cocks.”

“I suppose we're all kind of dumb then,” Jon suggests, and Robb smiles at him. Jon smiles back. After a moment though, his smile falters, and that makes Jon's falter in turn.

“I always thought... if anyone knew, they'd think I was... if _you_ knew, you'd...” Robb sighs heavily. “You don't think I'm disgusting, do you?”

Jon frowns. “If you're disgusting, so am I,” he points out. “I think we're all disgusting together now.”

“Though we can _say_ we think you're disgusting, if that's what you'd like,” says Theon, making Robb blush again. Then he laughs. “Come on you two, cheer up. Bloody Starks. Only people who can still be so miserable after fucking four times before dinner.”

“Piss off, Theon,” Robb and Jon say in unison, but there's no animosity in it, and Theon just chuckles merrily.

For awhile they stay there in comfortable silence, Jon and Robb curling up in each other's arms and Theon watching over them. Things just feel right now, now they all know the truth and he and Theon can share Robb, they don't have to squabble for nothing anymore. Jon might be a bit jealous, but he can't say he wishes Robb _didn't_ fuck those men, if this was the result.

Who knows, maybe if Robb's good, they'll even invite his friends from the stables to join in.

This moment laughs until they hear a bell start to ring, and Robb suddenly frowns. “Shit, dinner,” he says, pushing Jon off him and Jon lands with a thud and an irritated noise. “Fuck, I'm filthy, I'm covered in come, I needed to bathe, my clothes are gross, they'll be sitting everyone now – ah!” Robb tries to push himself upright, and then stops dead, wincing as he hovers on the edge of the bed. “Sitting. Alright. Could be tricky.”

There's a pause as Jon and Theon turn and look at each other, and then, despite knowing Robb's right and they really ought to get dressed and to dinner as soon as they can, the way he panics is just _funny_ , and they both burst out laughing.

Robb pouts at them. “Stop that,” he says, but Jon and Theon can't, and Robb looks like he's struggling to hold back a smile too. So they get to share this moment, Jon and Theon laughing fondly at Robb, for being silly and slutty and not so perfect.

It's a change.

 


End file.
